


Screamer

by helena_s_renn



Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: First Time Bottoming, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Switching, Tour Bus Sex, gratuitous use of swear words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 01:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: You think Sav can't top Joe? Think again.Just another night on the road, circa 1983."Their need burned so fierce, nothing satisfied like each other, a ritual of eat, suck, gnaw, consume."





	Screamer

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly a story, perhaps, but certainly fiction. 
> 
> Contains a bunch DL cliches any fan would recognize. Not your thing, don't read. 
> 
> Super-fast beta by ChristianHowe. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

-1983

They rode toward morning in their shiny silver arrow of light. To the west, the sky painted a deep livid purple along the horizon. Livid like the bruises littering Sav's thighs, like the fresh hickeys sucked into the thin skin over Joe's left hipbone. Their need burned so fierce, nothing satisfied like each other, a ritual of eat, suck, gnaw, consume.

 

Tall and rangy, Joe with the forever stare and long, long legs; Sav with his sweetly-curved little arse that fit in Joe's hands, face ever the epitome of sensual pleasure: their sweat and spunk combined on their bodies, the milk and water of life, the steel of their home town between their legs.

From the first time Sav had opened his legs to Joe and let it happen, it had only been a matter of time till tables had to turn, they both knew it. The bassist had been uncharacteristically quiet the next morning, shades on his face. Two days later he managed to pin Joe against the wall in the loo of some truckstop in the American Midwest and hiss, "Yer mine. One of these days. Yeh know that, right?" Didn't matter what they were doing; the truth between them, that Sav would claim his due, was traded in every move and every glance.

They didn't hook up often. They weren't gay and they had girlfriends. When the hormones and the chemicals and the road angst got to be too much, they unleashed upon each other.

Why then, of all nights, on the fucking tour bus where their drunk and grumpy bandmates could hear every inch and stretch and squeak?

Did it matter?

Inside, dark and close, curtain pulled around them, they lay exhausted and panting from exertion from the first go-'round. Two years younger to his recovery time advantage, Sav rolled on top. He was as good as the shape of his mouth and heavy-lidded eyes suggested, taking his time kissing Joe back into readiness, stroking his face, running fingers through his hair, pinching his tiny male nipples between calloused fingertips, dipping below his balls to tease and tickle - all the things blokes weren't supposed to do and weren't supposed to like. He wouldn't let Joe flip over, needed to see in stormy-green eyes when he breached, and when he bottomed out, and when Joe came from the action of his hips. It was a wrestling match, a battle. They ceased caring who heard or who saw the marks the next day, teeth locked in flesh as they struggled for dominance.

When surrender came, it was a beautiful thing, in its own bruised, weary, fucked-out way. "You'd better make me like it," Joe snarled.

The long, elaborate moan he got as answer was all Yes. Sav knew what he liked, but then, so did Joe since he was the one who did all those things to him with his hands and his cock. "Gonna take you apart... like you did me. Till you're screaming." He meant it, too.

"Think you're enough of a man ta handle me, do ye?"

"You know I am."

"We'll see."

Lube, miraculous invention: Sav used far more than needed, because he was so ready, had been ready for this for a year while Joe dithered about it. He centred himself between bent knees, curved his back and pushed. He needn't have, because there was Joe fucking himself open on Sav's dick, pulling at his arse and moaning.

"Deeper...! Dammit, Sav, is that all you've got?"

It wasn't, not by far. No one, Joe learned, fucked like Sav, not that he had any personal basis for comparison. The bassist who ran around, jumped all over the stage risers, sang his heart out and shook his butt on stage till he was too exhausted to move did the same there in the confines of the bunk, till down the aisle someone coughed pointedly, someone else giggled, and another someone slurred at them to shut the fuck up and finish.

They didn't publish their lyrics with *Joe Elliott trademark scream here*. But Sav wrote the song of their pairing that night with such an ending in mind. He thrust and delved and worked the angles, screwed till the man shaking apart below him gave in in one more way, his screams rattling the bus windows.

 

Later, they all agreed that someone should have recorded those shrieks. One in particular would have worked well at the end of a new song Steve had penned in the days following. The song sat on a shelf for many moons. _"...I know you think that love is the way you make it, so I don't wanna be there when you decide to break it."_

They had all been there. Nothing much was broken, and what was a little virginity between mates anyway?

 

-1985

Steve pulled out a hand-held recorder. "Who remembers this one?" He pushed the play button.

Probably for the first time ever, Joe's face flamed crimson. Mutt looked across the soundboard at him with detached amusement. "You didn't! What. The actual. Fuck...?" Joe sputtered.

"Inspiration." Prompted by Rick's sharp elbow, Steve grinned like a loon, rewound and replayed it. "Well, Sav. Think you can make him do that again?"

That was two faces red as roses, four ruddy cheeks. Or maybe eight for all anyone knew.

Phil piped in. "Yeah, Sav. You two get in the booth there. Button up your jeans when you're done this time."

"Never."

 

-Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments is love, babies!


End file.
